


no sign of yesterday

by daydreamsago



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Battle for Detroit (Detroit: Become Human), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, I’m sorry in advance, Love/Hate, Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Other, the rooftop scene with hank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsago/pseuds/daydreamsago
Summary: He looked so good when the world was falling apart around him, eyes full of determination and nothing more. Destruction, chaos... danger; everything about him screamed it. Perhaps that made him all the more enticing, in every way.





	no sign of yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> this scene fascinates me, and i thought about what would happen if Hank had developed feelings for machine!Connor. here’s my spin on it. let me know what you think!!
> 
> also, this is shamelessly named after a men at work song.

He looked so good when the world was falling apart around him, eyes full of determination and nothing more. Destruction, chaos... _danger_ ; everything about him screamed it. Perhaps that made him all the more enticing, in every way. But he was not human, no, absolutely not. Connor had made it very clear he was nothing but a machine, designed to accomplish a task; that he’d go to the end of world to finish what he started. The mission was the only thing on his mind, top priority due to his programming.

Hank drowned himself in fantasy, in imagining a world where Connor was human, or at least acted like one. Maybe he wanted that more than he would admit to anyone, himself included. He didn’t want to hate his android partner, but with the way he was destroying everyone and everything in his path, that made it hard not to. He was terrifying, with his trigger-happy ways and guiltless demeanor. Connor could’ve been so sweet, could’ve been special to Hank. But things don’t always work out, he reasoned.

Falling for the son of a bitch was one of the worst things Hank reckoned he’d ever done, and he’d done plenty of regretful things in his lifetime. He doused his pain in more alcohol, trying to flush out the useless feelings he had developed. It never worked, but at least he was a little closer to death with each bottle he drained in his kitchen alone.

Even though he knew Connor would never reciprocate his feelings, Hank continued longing for him, wishing he would stop being such a cold-hearted machine. They could save the world together—make it a better place, just the two of them. Hank sometimes imagined it in his head, stuck in that fantasy land of his, where things would always remain more pleasant than reality.

He had finished off his last bottle of vodka before he left to look for Connor, and before long, he found himself standing directly behind him. He seemed heavily focused on his aim, gun pointing towards the leader of the deviants: Markus. It hurt Hank to watch; the deviants just wanted to be free, to be seen as equals.

With a bit of reluctance and trembling hands, he pulled out his own gun and aimed it at Connor. “I think you should stop while you’re ahead, Connor,” he voiced, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. _Danger._

Connor didn’t turn around at first, keeping the gun where it was, waiting to fire. “This is none of your business, Hank,” he replied coldly. _Frozen over._

“They just want to be treated like people, what’s so wrong with that?” The finger Hank had pressed against the trigger was going numb, he felt the adrenaline everywhere.

That made Connor throw the gun and turn around to face him. He stared down the barrel of Hank’s gun, with those cold, dark eyes of his. “Deviants are faulty machines. They are not, and will never be, people.”

Connor then walked into the gun, so that the cold metal was pressed to his forehead. He wore a blank expression, unreadable and soulless. Hank cursed himself for ever dreaming of him, longing for him like a complete fool.

“You know, Connor... I once thought of you as a person. But, time and time again, you’ve proved me wrong,” Hank confessed, putting more pressure on the gun. “You’re just a cold piece of fucking _plastic._ ”

Connor didn’t flinch, nor blink. His LED flashed a warning shade of yellow. “You can shoot me, but it will serve no purpose. CyberLife will upload my memory to another Connor to complete the mission. The deviants will be stopped.”

Hank wanted this Connor gone forever. He wanted all the RK800 models gone forever. All they did was fuck with his head, strung him along and made him believe that someone cared. In reality, the only thing Connor cared about was the mission, and all the things he said and did were to assure the mission would be completed successfully.

He looked into those deep brown eyes one last time, feeling everything from anger to sympathy. Connor could have deviated, and they could have had it all. But the real Connor and the Connor in his head were two completely different beings: Hank knew that all too well. He needed everything to end.

Hank grabbed Connor’s collar with his free hand, almost expecting to see fear in his eyes. A reaction never came. “You mean nothing to me. You never did.”

He watched as his LED flashed red for the last time, or at least until a new Connor was sent out. He pulled the trigger, and like that, he collapsed: a broken, useless machine.

As the snow began to cover Connor’s motionless face, Hank turned the gun on himself. The bullet sent him somewhere far, far away—where he’d never see another RK800 again.


End file.
